Alone In A Field Of Rain

he thought he would be happy here
he thought he had a purpose
(innocent)
he stood rooted
in the rain
his once gaily colored
patchwork shirt
sodden and drab
he shivered helplessly
in the cold october wind
his brittle hair
snapped against his face
day after day went by,
he grew lonely
with only the sun and moon
as silent company

until one dusk,
he heard caws from overhead
he looked up happily
a few crows dipped down
and flew off with his straw hat
he laughed nervously through
sewn lips
maybe this is a game they play,
he thought.

(he learned)

as night falls
he grows afraid
he awaits the first harsh caws
that announce Their arrival.
wheeling down from the trees
screeching, black feathered midnight.
(his hell)
they don't want to play anymore.
they want him out of their field.

he can't cry out
his arms don't protect him;
they dangle limply

each dusk,
they take a little more of him
and he is so frightened.
all alone with these monsters
(does no one love him?
has he been forgotten?)

soon, he knows,
all that will be left of him
will be bits and pieces
scattered to the four winds
or trapped in the feather-monster's bellies.

he wishes he could cry,
a single tear would do...
but his eyes are gone
they ripped them out

(hopeless)
he shivers in the breeze

as the sun begins it's descent
once again,
he hears a whistle
(could it be?)
a little boy is running,
running through the field toward him
laughing, his arms held out...